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CHAPTER XVIII.
PAGE WRITTEN AT BRUSSELS
Well then, yes, I will kick open the door of this Palace, and I will
enter with you, History! I will seize by the collar all the
perpetrators, continually caught red-handed in the commission of all
these outrages! I will suddenly illuminate this cavern of night with the
broad daylight of truth!
Yes, I will bring in the daylight! I will tear down the curtain, I will
open the window, I will show to every eye such as it really is,
infamous, horrible, wealthy, triumphant, joyous, gilded,
besmirched--this Elysée! this Court! this group! this heap! call it what
you will! this galley-crew! where writhe and crawl, and pair and breed
every baseness, every indignity, every abomination: filibusters,
buccaneers, swearers of oaths, Signers of the Cross, spies, swindlers,
butchers, executioners, from the brigand who vends his sword, to the
Jesuit who sells his God second-hand! This sink where Baroche elbows
Teste! where each brings his own nastiness! Magnan his epaulets;
Montalembert his religion, Dupin his person!
And above all the innermost circle, the Holy of Holies, the private
Council, the smug den where they drink--where they eat--where they
laugh--where they sleep--where they play--where they cheat--where they
call Highnesses "Thou,"--where they wallow! Oh! what ignominies! It is
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